John's last log
by lardidar
Summary: When John finally finally is able to turn his computer on, he decides to let all his emotions out onto his journal, about his best friends death. Sherlock.


Journal log: Wow, I never thought it would be so hard to turn my computer on in my whole life. It's been a while since I last wrote a log and well, that's because I lost my best friend. He was a real soldier. A good man. He never accepted money for his work, why? Because he loved it that much that he didn't want money, he just wanted to get in there and let his mind free.

It was amazing, watching him analyse the crime scene, noting every single detail into his complex mind before coming to the conclusion. I don't know how he did it, but he was a true genius.

His last words, was to me, over the phone. He called himself a fake. But I know, I know that he was lying.

The thought of him just makes me have flashbacks to that exact moment. I had to write this so I could remember, for when I'm older, when I have a family. If I ever do. He was the only family I had, no. The only family I wanted. Watching him, standing up there. Watching as he jumped. Wind rushing through his curled hair, watching as he mouthed 'I'm sorry' to me before hitting the ground.

Suicide.

My problems have started to come back, the war I fought with him is now over. Leaving my body shaking once again, craving the battlefield. I have nightmares each night, some of the war, some of the tall dark man himself. He can't just leave, not like this. There was so much I had to say, so much I wanted to say.

Everything he has touched, everywhere he has been makes me think of him. I can't live my life anymore without thinking about him.

Yes I'm a soldier, and a doctor, which should mean that I'm strong-hearted but this, this is too much. I can't eat nor sleep. I can't read or go for a walk. I couldn't even turn the computer on, that is how bad it is getting. I have even found myself putting nicotine patches on without even knowing.

That man, detective, genius, idiot, psychopath, attractive person. He was everything, my smile, laugh, frown, anger, hate, happiness, love, joy. Fun. I was his partner, we solved crimes together. Was that all nothing, is that all nothing? He was always ruining my dates, does this mean? That I can go on dates now? Or will he stop me still, his ghost?

The doctor, she says I need to take my mind off things, give myself a break from everything. So that's why I am writing this, I'm letting all my emotions out on this so I can be freed. Even though I know it won't work because that's just stupid, this was too big to just forget.

I remember the first time I ever met him, it was the best day of my life. When I first entered the room, he got everything about me right. Then when he found out Harry was short for Harriet, that was funny. Then we chased the taxi, which we thought wasn't the right one, but it really was. The taxi driver was the killer. I remember every single case we ever did together. When we weren't doing anything mad, we were sat in the flat, talking. Which may have seemed boring but it wasn't. He would tell me about previous cases, jump around the room explaining everything that happened. Even if he didn't admit it, he was a very good comedian when he wanted be, which was rare but it was worth the wait. Although, he did over use the gun a bit too much. However, every time I hid it he always used to find it, not matter how hard I tried.

"Be strong John. It's okay John. Don't worry John." That's what everyone tells me, if he was here he'd laughed in their faces and tell them to stop telling him what to do, he'd shut them up because they were annoying, distracting, or their IQ was lowering his own so they needed to stay away from him. Ridicules. He was so confident, he could just say shut up and the whole room would go silent. Crazy.

He would always dress smart, no matter what the occasion was, his tight purple shirt was the thing he wore the most, it still smelt like him. That's another thing I miss, his smell, it was so defined. Not like anyone else, he had a strong sent, the sweetest one I have smelt. I know I shouldn't but they are sat there, just one smell.

Anyway, I'm not going to write anymore.

This all just reminds me how, well how I can't live without that man, and I am no longer going to live without him. Nothing is the same anymore, I only see the world as a black pit of depression, nothing makes me happy anymore. Every time I hear sirens I always want to look up to see his eyes looking at mine, with that mischievous grin on his lips, showing that he was thinking what I was thinking.

Tonight will be my last night, I'm sorry will be my last words, the last thing I will see is the floor getting closer and closer to me, then I'll finally hit it, just like he did. Then, then I'll be free too, I'll be able to see him again and get away from the darkness of this world. I'll be able to be truly happy.

I must go now, my fate has been sealed and I am off to fulfill it.

Just remember, the man who will never be forgotten,

The man who _will _go down in history.

Mr Sherlock Holmes.

The greatest detective known to man, and the greatest man known to me.

Goodbye, world.


End file.
